Trying to get away

Things are always easy.

People make it look easy. But to pull off things, it takes practice. Think of your favorite play/music/performance. Those people showing up in front of you - they aren't walking on the stage/in front of the camera for the first time.

It's been rehearsed. Practiced.

I was trying to get away two weeks ago. A round trip, stand-by ticket on Southwest. Any place Southwest flies.

I was trying to go to an island - East this time. To see Peter Pan.

The flights didn't work out that day. I didn't try the next day. I just didn't go.

I should have just bought the ticket. It's been a cold, damp spring. Living with mouthy teenagers get tedious. It was 80, the day after I was supposed to leave. We had two feet of snow that Saturday.

A girlfriend of mine, said, if you can wait two weeks, I'll go with you.

Against my better judgement, I planned a different trip. 4 nights, all inclusive (airfare, food, drinks) for $600 each.

We are set to leave on Wednesday - the Thursday before (I had my passport out to write down the serial number for the ticket), my passport was on the end of the table. I remember knocking it off and was in the middle of something. Then thinking "I need to grab that so the wonder dog doesn't".

Well, you guessed it. I look out and he's chewing on my passport.

The dog gets fixed on Friday (that was planned). I went to the passport office and my passport would be ready to be picked up on Tuesday. Pick it up between 1 and 2.

To keep the timeline straight here: Thursday, damaged passport. Friday, renewed passport - dog gets fixed.

Tuesday - the day before I'm supposed to leave. The dog is chewing on my flip flops.

My youngest son comes home from school doubled over in pain. We get in the car, go to the doctor, go the passport office, go to the emergency room

Yes, in that order. No, I do not have any flip flops. I'm actually in my running shoes. Yes, the dog is with us at the hospital.

If this is appendicitis, I'm not going on my trip. But we don't know what it is yet, and if it's something as simple as your really constipated - I'm going on this trip.

6 hours later, 3 shots of morphine, it's a kidney stone.

Some friends picked up Brodie at the hospital for us. We got to go home that night.

I packed and left the next afternoon. Sending both Brodie and Nolan to his dad's.

For a couple of years, I've wanted to take a vacation that didn't involve marathons, fires, earthquakes, hurricanes. I finally got that relaxing do nothing 5 day vacation. (Although I did still work one morning).

Next step? Working on my exit strategy. Maybe one day, I'll just be able to plan, pack and go.

Ha. Not counting on that one anytime soon.

(Oh, I forgot to mention on that same Tuesday morning, the garage door wouldn't open. The spring had broken. They came out and fixed the garage door before everything else happened on Tuesday).

I've got this. I've had lots of practice...

The Basement Rental

I've owned my house for 12 years. In fact, it might be 13 years this August (I'm not really good with dates and time and when things happened). I might KNOW they happened. I just can't always put my finger on the moment it happened.

From what I can recall, I've rented out my basement 6 summers. Traded for two. A total of 8. Which makes sense - I didn't start at the beginning.

Not sure where I actually got the idea. Maybe from a friend of mine whom rented her basement out - her basement though was more like an apartment. Had it's own kitchen. It's own entrance.

My basement had it's own entrance at one point, but that has been changed. Although, I don't think any of the renters ever used that entrance.

As I mentioned last year, I had trouble finding a renter. It seems everyone is renting a room now. More people rent their rooms and basement. NOW, that everyone is doing it, I get a little more skeptical.

Fingers crossed, I've only had good experiences. It was looking for a summer rental, that changed my life into my love for Hawaii.

This summer, my renter from last summer, he referred a friend. A friend whom got the same internship he had last summer. Last years renter sent me an e-mail wanting to know how things were going and telling me the story.

His friend had asked about a place to rent. He replied, "Let me reach out to family I stayed with last summer, they were great. It was a great situation.".

I've never had a summer referral. I didn't even look this time.

The friend of a friend is coming for the summer.

Things are changing this next year. He might be the last summer rental.....

At least in this house.

It works out ok

I'm not sure where to start.

Yesterday, I went with some friends in the hood to pick up their CCI puppy. We met another CCI family - picking up their CCI puppy.

It gets long in life. It gets complicated. It's very simple. Teenagers can be annoying. Parents are annoying too.

But friends, friends of the real kind, will always be great.

I try not to blog about my frustrations with them. I wouldn't want them to blog about my frustrations with me.

At times, we all have frustrations about each other.

But this time - a friend and her family whom live much like me - I told them to take a look at the House Swap site.They did. They are gone for the month of July. We are all figuring this out together.

Today, I get a text: "Hey, can you swap for a weekend in San Fran, Memorial Day."

Sure, I say. I'm there.

Cool. Let me connect you.

Years ago, I was a risk taker. I held my breath and swapped it for a summer in Hawaii.

A weekend in San Francisco? Anyone want to join me????

We will be just fine.

My Little Free Library

Books.

Hard bound. Soft bound. Tattered at the edges. Stains on the pages. Holding a page in your hand.

I love BOOKS.

Much like I loved the newspaper.

I'm a tactile person. I need to touch. Feel. Experience.

A couple of months ago I was reading a paperback book. You know, the old fashioned kind. One that was printed.

I had picked it up at a "My Little Free Library"

This author I had read before. My sister had read this book. I was about half-way through the book. Then I left the book on the plane.

Instead of buying another copy, I downloaded it. Then finished the book.

Part of me still doesn't feel like I "read the book" - even though I know the ending.

I have a "Little Free Library" in my yard.

They have been popping up in my neighborhood for years. I have wanted one for years.

I'm one of those people - if I want something, I usually go get it. But for some reason I could not justify this expense. I'm not sure what it was that held me back.

My dad and step-mother normally send me money for Christmas. This year, I asked them to please order me a Little Free Library.  It arrived late. It had to be painted. It needed not only some parts, but installation as well.

The only thing I knew I could cover was the painting.

Long story short. I painted it. I bought the extra parts. I paid a local handy man to install.

I LOVE books.

I LOVE everything about books.

Now I wonder what the stories the books have heard to make it into my yard. I have two stories. The one from the book. The one from the person whom put the book in the library.

The purpose of the library in my yard: take a book, leave a book.

There have been children's books. Teen lit (and the day I found a Beverly Cleary book I was ecstatic. The day I discovered it was gone, was a bit sad).

I put "Fifty Shades of Grey" in the Library. (I had the book for years, someone told me it was very poorly written, so I never read it - it sat on my nightstand for years, the library was the perfect place to pass it on".  It took over two weeks for someone to take it.

There is an older couple whom stops by every Wednesday. He parks the car in front of my house. He comes over and opens her door. He walks her to my library on the side yard.

I can't actually see the library from my house - unless I go sneaking around.

Sometimes,  I think I need to get a life.

Sometimes,  I think I need to go out and talk to the couple - the little couple whom visits my library.

You look like I need a drink

There are moments, when you can look across a room. You look and know that everything changes from that moment on.

No. There are no flashes of lightning. The band does not stop playing. You just know.

You look up. You pay attention to your surroundings. You know something is all RIGHT. And at the same moment something is so not all the way it used to look.

You look up. You think, "this isn't how things used to look." "So this is how is it supposed to look".

If alcohol is involved or not.

This is a defining moment in life.

Everything changes.

Once, in Vail, a million years ago. I was talking with a girlfriend. We had been skiing all day.

I keep trying to make this story fluffy. I keep trying to make things the way they aren't.

I'm going back to making things the way they really are.

Once upon a time, I was at the Cherry Cricket.

This young guy said to me, 

"Can you buy me a drink?"

Start or End here

If you were to give someone a road map, most of us could clearly define where to enter. Where to exit.

It's the middle that confuses us. The middle sends us off is all sorts of directions. But we KNOW - if you start one place. You should really end at the other.

We just don't have a road map of the middle.

I have written many blogs about the middle of things. The middle when it gets crazy and confusing and we don't think we have any direction.

Today though I realized, we are wrong about the middle. We are wrong for so long. We keep thinking we need to put the middle on a map. If we enter at point A and Exit at point B. Shouldn't it be easy to get from one to the other?

Sometimes the time from Point A to Point B is hours. Other times? Days. Other times? Decades.

Sometimes we find a different Point B on our way.

Some friends of my sons parents and I were all talking about this summer. They are going to Kona. My heart hurt just a little when they said they were going.

I asked if they wanted a resource.- I had lived there for 5 summers, I could give them some pointers. I told them I would not expect them to do what I wast telling them about. I would give them a local perspective.

The text arrived today, "Okay, tour guide, send us on our way.". The parents. Asking for suggestions.

They have never been to Hawaii. Where do I start?

I started with an e-mail.

This e-mail began:  Either start or end here, ((giving location))

For the first time in my entire life, I filled in the middle......

Living life

The neighborhood I live in was built in 1955.

Brick ranch style houses. Houses that were top of the line in 1955.

My house still has the original master bath - pink and burgundy. Double pink sinks. Pink Toilet. Pink Commode. I can't even think of changing it.

As much as my neighborhood is new - it's still old. Or, as I would like to think - traditional.

We still have ice cream trucks in the summer.

There is a tire swing in my Willow tree. A tire that fell out of the tree when a young girl down the street was swinging on it.

She was crying when she ran up to tell me she had "broke my tree".

Sweet kids still afraid of telling grown ups "I made a mistake"

I told her, "Everything breaks after a while. Thanks for coming to tell me. I'll get it fixed. Please come back and swing some more."

The neighborhood house. This was the house I wanted to live in when I was a kid.

But that was my childhood.

I figure it's this way in life:

you live you life you thought you were supposed to have.

Sit around and be disappointed about your life.

Or

Go live the life you wanted.

Of course, that is simple in theory.

There is heartache. Disappointment. Ecstasy. Everything in between.

Pick which one works best for you.

Remind me to tell you about my library.